The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men

The good Doctor and I had been planning a big night out for quite a while, but something, usually employment obligations, always got in the way. Finally, last Friday, we were able to make it work. But the Doctor was concerned that we not lose a single moment in our quest for a proper buzz.

“Let’s start the party in the early afternoon, so we get in bed at a reasonable hour and have something left for the next day,” he suggested. I agreed, and we met up around 3:45 at Scoma’s in Sausalito for a drink. After two vodka-tonics, he suggested we call my connection in the City.

“Can’t do it,” I informed him. “He doesn’t begin his rounds until eight o’clock.”

The Doctor sighed. “Didn’t I tell you I wanted to get started early?”

Not really believing in my new mission, I began scrolling through the numbers in my cell phone for some inspiration. When I came across the Jew, the proverbial light bulb went off over my head. He was always down for a good time, and fairly well connected. I called him and he luckily answered. Even more luckily, he informed me that he was sitting on a gram and a half of blow right there in his apartment.

“We’re coming over,” I said brusquely. He agreed.

Our journey from then on out was a tale in itself, a book of stories and adventures, many of which we will hopefully explore here someday. We drank, we smoked, we talked and danced and sang. We met a motley host of companions, all friendly and full of life. Dealers came and went throughout the evening. What else can be said? It was one of those nights.

And at seven forty-five in the morning, after fourteen hours of partying, back at the Doctor’s house in Sausalito, as the sleeping pill was just kicking in and the last drink was being polished off, I couldn’t help but observe:

“Good thing we got started early, buddy. Now we can truly tackle the day.”